Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. Her heavy pistol came up again, although she did not rise.
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